Familiar
by N.D. Stark
Summary: He could hear the roars of anger, the screams of fear and surprise. He could smell the acrid smoke erupting from the fire at his feet and feel the cords tied tight around him. He could hear his own pleading for understanding. But they wouldn't listen. He was a demon. And they would burn him at the stake.(Violent memories/light racism and abuse/Slight Kurty/Nightcrawler revealed)
1. Chapter 1

They had no idea what they were doing.

He hadn't been one to talk, much less allow them to know _what _exactly he was. If anyone other than his friends found out, they'd... he didn't know honestly. It couldn't be any worse then his - childhood? No exactly. This had been the peak of his fortune, to speak honestly. Everyone knew that he was a mutant. That he could teleport, climb walls. They still didn't know... about who he really was. _What _he was.  
He was a monster.  
He couldn't bear the thought of so many knowing. He didn't know what he would do.

People would always ask him 'how come you don't do PE? You look so fit.', 'What's wrong with a hug?', 'Where'd that high five go?'. And those were only the few that humored him.

Kitty was there, being held back by the crowd. He could see the scared look on her face. He was scared too.  
Pietro had him cornered, in the cafeteria of all places. There were so many watching. He could feel the pit of his stomach drop.  
"Pietro, it's too late!" He tried, only to have Lance's hand land on his throat.  
He had that 'devil may care' grin on, put he couldn't do anything. If he fought back he'd be suspended. He couldn't risk that, not so close to graduation.  
He stared daggers into Lance, but his gaze continued to be ignored.  
"There's more to 'im!" He could hear Pietro preaching. He could hear the whispers of concern between his fellow students. What would they do? He could feel it coming. He gasped slightly as Lance's steady hand further crushed his throat.  
From the corner of his vision he could see Evan fighting to get closer. He started to franticly shake his head.  
"Why?" He could hear Evan ask himself. He could hear. He'd always been able to, with the large pointed elf ears he had. No one could tell though. He hid them under a wave of short choppy, sloppily cut black hair.  
"I can do this." He choked. "I can do this."

His eyes darted back and forth. He saw Kitty finally manage to push through. With a quick gush of air Pietro was at his other side, wrestling the one arm with the image inducer onto the wall. He tried to wrench it away, but failed immensely. With a sheer movement the inducer was left shattered on the floor. With that went his confidence. All of the positivity he'd stored up, the feelings that made him the jokester amongst his friends. They all broke, like a glass hitting the floor. He fell to the floor with it.

Lance released his grip, and he fell to his knees, palms on the shining tiled floor.  
In the back of his mind he could hear the screams. It was all fuzzy, mixed in with the jeering laughter and pointing fingers from his days in the circus. He remembered it vividly, sitting the cage; waiting to be let out and get on the trapeze although that rarely happened. They called him names like 'demon', 'creature', 'monster'. The children would even dare each other to go up close and touch the bars; as if it was some great feat. He didn't want to harm anyone. It would never be his intention, and it never had been.

He gripped the sides of his head, trying to banish the memories.

He remembered running, always running. It felt like years before he could stop. He could feel his arms and legs aching. He could hear them closing in, the pitchforks and torches they held, roaring fire and glinting, clinking metal. Even further back, the sinking feeling of falling from a bridge, fuzzy vision showing a woman crying high above on a bridge. He felt pain. The sharp crack of leather in the air, trying to shield himself, to explain what he'd done wrong. The ringmaster didn't even think of him as a person. No. As an animal.  
He could hear the roars of anger, screams and shouts of surprise. They all compiled into a loud white noise, making him silently cringe. He could barely hear their voices.  
"Oh my god, a tail."  
"He's blue..."  
"Look at it..."

He could in fact now feel the short, short fur on his three fingered palms. He could feel the freezing cold floor, the rushes of air as people tried to get a better look. He could feel his two toed bare feet sliding across the tile, his knees holding him in the small ball that he was. He could feel the tail curling around him protectively, but he knew that wouldn't help.  
"Evan! Evan! Get Scott! Hurry!"

He wasn't sad. He wasn't worried. Hell, he wasn't even scared.

He was absolutely terrified.

He could feel himself shivering, his fang like teeth chattering against one another in a solid, all too real fear.

"It's alright. Just get up. Get up! Come on!" He could heard Kitty trying to get him to his feet, but he only curled closer in on himself. He let out a quiet, insecure whimper.  
_"ich kann nicht_..." He tried to say. _"ich kann es nicht_..."

She couldn't understand, he knew; but he couldn't do it. He was so terrified that the slightest movement would send his world spiraling downhill. He couldn't risk that. He never could. He stayed as still as he could on the floor, his hands wrapped over his head as if to protect himself.  
"Come on..." She said breathlessly. He could hear stomping feet nearing as Kitty tried to urge him to his feet. She only managed to get him to take his hands off his head and look at her.  
He could see she was scared. He only locked eyes with her for a moment though. The footsteps grew nearer, a crowd of heavy sounding shoes on the floor in the near silence, even though his head was screaming. He cringed, drawing away from here.  
"What's happening to it?" Someone asked.

They didn't realize. He didn't either though. To him the sound of footsteps meant pain.  
All the sudden a memory flashed before his eyes. He was panicked, and most likely dead. He'd been screaming, pleading, crying and the others were still terrified of him. They'd caught him, tied him to a stake. And now there was a bomb fire at is feet. He could hardly breathe, the smoke kicking up in the air.  
"Kurt?..."


	2. Chapter 2

**10 Years Later**

He let in a shattered breath.

He wasn't sure what was happening, exactly. He did know though, that they all knew. They all knew what a monster he was.

Before his eyes the panic compiled into one, key moment.

_"Kill the monster!"  
"Be rid of it!"  
"End the demon!"_

He placed a hand on his forehead, unsure of what to think, how similar now and then felt. He felt breathless, thirsty, tired from running. Of being called a beast. He'd been hardly a teenager when it'd happened. It wasn't his fault, and they didn't seem to understand that. He didn't choose to have fur, to be blue. It wasn't his choice if he had fangs, a tail, or yellow eyes.

The best thing that had ever happened to him was probably being loaded onto a plane to come to America, and even then the train ride to Bayville was better than any of the other trains he'd been on, by far. The first train he'd ever been on was probably when he was hardly a toddler, and the gypsie camp he grew up in managed to hijack one. Well, not hijack. Stowaway.  
He'd grown up in the hills of Germany, running around with children who refused to wear clothes or do their chores. Either way, as he grew older, maybe six or seven he managed to sneak into a nearby village to see a film. He wasn't supposed to, he knew. But he went anyway, and hunkered down in the rafters. But as soon as one of the crowd below noticed, his cleverly planned day ended quiet badly. He ended up at the feet of his stepmother, covered in mud and scrapes.

He felt just as terrified now as he had then, trying to pull himself together and stand but not being able to.  
But now he stood in a courtyard in Washington DC surrounded by people, with one voice towering above the rest.

"Human!?" Senator Kelly shouted. "You dare call that _thing _human!?"

He felt his eyes fall to the ground, his tail hang low, his shoulders droop. His head swung to his chest, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.  
Logan and Storm said nothing, and he knew Mystique was out there in the crowd somewhere, listening.  
He let his fists uncurl from the ball they had been in, and he stood up straight.

"He didn't choose."

A woman's voice cut through the near silence, and the quiet murmurs came to an end as everyone's eyes landed on the woman who had now stepped out from the crowd.  
Her once blonde hair turned short, red, slicked back. Her skin changed from cream to blue, scales littering her face, shoulders, and legs. Her eyes blurred from blue to yellow, the black starting bubble through into the color like an artist who had splattered paint across the canvas. Her lips were pursed, her eyebrows curved with guilt, eye on the ground as well. But she took a breath, ignoring the gasps of her change, and looked senator Kelly straight in the eye.

"None of us choose." She said softly. "Look at me. I'm horrifying. But, like everyone else who lives like this, I deal with it. In fact, I embrace it."  
She cast out a hand to everyone around her. "I didn't have a choice. He didn't have a choice. No one here had a choice. You didn't even had a choice, and what makes you think that makes us less human?"  
Mystique turned to Kurt, her eyes once again falling to the ground. "If you had to have anyone to blame for this, it would be me." She glanced up a bit, her eyes fluttering. "I'm sorry."

"Vhat do you mean?" Kurt said slowly.

"You." She said. "Are my fault."  
"Vhat?" His voice shook.

His mouth was agape slightly.  
"I'm sorry. I would've been there. I really would." Her words shook, shattering. "I would've raised you. But they were going to kill both of us, so I threw you in the river."

He shook his head.  
"_Nien_."  
"I'm sorry."  
"_Nien..." _

He looked up her.  
And with a small puff of purple smoke, he was gone.


End file.
